


Just Like Witches at Black Masses

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Series: Led Sabbath [2]
Category: Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Adventure, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Comedy, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Funny, Gay, Hanging Out, Humor, Led Sabbath, Led Zeppelin/Black Sabbath, Magic, Male Slash, Multi, Occult, Other, Plot Devices, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Some Plot, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: Part 2 of my Led Sabbath series, part 1 is Gen'rals Gathered in Their Masses.Takes places right after the events in Part 1, now the boys in Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin are off in groups doing rock star/slut/weirdo stuff.Robert is the sluttiest slut who ever manwhored.Everyone gets some bonding in.Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, best thing since sliced bread and oral sex.
Relationships: Geezer Butler/Ozzy Osbourne, Jimmy Page/Robert Plant, John Bonham/John Paul Jones, Ozzy Osbourne/Robert Plant/Original Character
Series: Led Sabbath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865431
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Just Like Witches at Black Masses

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, M/M/F. Poor random chick in a manslut sammich.
> 
> Lots of humor and silliness.

Led Sabbath

2

Still sometime in the totally far-out 70s, London or thereabouts

“You have such pretty lips,” Robert said softly as he slathered a fuchsia lipstick onto Ozzy’s puckered lips. The singers were in a women’s boutique, because A: it’s Robert, and B: why not? and C: Bloke gotta get his women’s blouses somewhere, right? 

After the studio session, the two bands had scattered in various iterations, and the singers went off together, Geezer, Jimmy, and Tony went off as a group, and Bill, Jonesy and Bonzo went out on their own.

“Howzit look?” asked the Sabbath vocalist, his lips still puckered.

“It looks great with your eyes,” declared Robert as he finished, noticing Ozzy’s eyes were a pretty green-blue, in fact. Hmm, thought the Zeppelin vocalist, who was a big, lanky, dumb romantic, what if he distracted Ozzy so Tony could hone in on Geezer? What a delicious idea. A beeee-yootiful idea. Robert A. Plant, Hippie Matchmaker. Genius. He was brought out of his reverie by Ozzy motioning him to sit down at the customer counter, so they switched places.

“This rose color should do the trick,” Ozzy mumbled, all the various chemicals he’d put in his body vying for supremacy.

The upper echelon ladies who frequented the place meanwhile were wondering about the two mannish ladies hogging the samples, or were they two feminine chaps? The final ruling was still out. One had model-worthy lips and the blond one was wearing a nice frilly blouse and turquoise jewelry.

John Paul, Bonham, and Bill Ward found themselves at an antique shop looking at tea sets.

You heard correctly.

Tea sets. 

Turns out Bill and Jonesy both shared a love of antiques in general, and patterned tea sets in particular. Bonzo was just bored and wanted to hang out and stare at Jonesy who was the most prettiest thing the drummer had ever seen. Besides his best mate Robert, but eww, he was like a brother, and Bonham wasn’t into incest. Also, he didn’t wanna catch heffcephalupagus D or some such.

Bill was just happy the Zeppelin percussionist wasn’t completely hammered out of his mind yet and not playing the very bull in a china shop thing. While there, they discovered from talking to some really nice antique aficionados that there was going to be an Antique Roadshow type deal going on in California in a few days, with all sorts of items up for sale. Bill and Jonesy locked gazes, a Grinch style smile spreading over both their faces.

“Ohhh no,” began Bonzo. “I know that look. You gonna drag us all to bloody California to look at some old crockery and musty dildos an’ shit. Dear Lort.”

At the intersection of Weird Street and Oh Look, it’s a Demon Avenue, Geezer, Jimmy and Tony were perusing various objects in one of the New Age shops that had sprung up the last few years to service those interested in magick and the occult. Since Geezer was the one who wrote a lot of the witchy, science fictiony shit in Sabbath, Jimmy felt a certain kinship with the bassist. Tony was poking around, sort of interested himself, and he found a rather evil-looking, blackened, leather-bound tome. He opened it up to discover it was a handwritten journal of sorts by 19th century French occultist and socialist Eliphas Levi.

“Guys, guys, lookit this,” the Sabbath guitarist called to his companions.

Geezer and Jimmy’s eyes both widened, one set of green and one set of soft brown orbs taking in the find. Geezer took it from Tony and reverently thumbed through the pages, to find loose, yellowed paper with notes and comments scrawled on them.

In Aleister Crowley’s handwriting.

“Sweet Baphomet’s horns,” swore Jimmy in awe. “Tony, you’re the luckiest cat to have found this. I must have it.”

“What if I want it?” challenged Geezer. “Just think the songs I could write after reading some of that.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” offered Jimmy.

“I’ll match whatever you offer,” Tony jumped in.

Now it was two against one.

Jimmy’s already squinty eyes narrowed at the other guitarist like he was Clint Eastwood, but it failed to have the same effect. Tony’s own dark, intense gaze was being leveled at the Zeppelin mage. While the Spooky Boi(trademark) tension was rising, Geezer then noticed the telly on the counter the satanic looking clerk was watching, where there was something about a Song of Doom that was causing bad luck, illnesses, accidents, alleged deaths.

Hmm. Interesting. Most of the happenings were from some bootlegged tape being circulated in California.

Back at the boutique…

“Hey, naw, you get her face, I’ll get her pussy,” Robert insisted as he shucked his painted-on trousers off, and the girl in question was rolling down her polyester pants. 

“Why can’t I get her pussy and you get her arsehole?” Ozzy wondered out loud. He was tripping balls at the moment, and the dressing room they were all trying to get their freak on in was rather small but seemed to be BREATHING. Oh well.

“Because, mate, it’s so small in this booth,” Robert advised as he relieved the cute brunette of her top and bra. She had some really rocking tits, it turns out. “In our condition we’d never pull it off.”

Ozzy meanwhile had shucked his clothes off, still a bit uncertain. The bird started it off by bending over, pushing Ozzy against the wall, and taking his semi-hard penis into her hot little mouth. Well, that did it, drugs or no drugs his dick sprang to life.

“There’s a good lad,” said the blond singer, then eased himself into the moist slit of the woman, who moaned around the dick her mouth, sending little shockwaves of pleasure to Ozzy.

“Hey, man,” slurred the Sabbath vocalist. “Does this seem a bit…weird to you?”

“Not really,” Robert grunted as he began to move in the brunette, feeling her warm cunt tight and wet around his engorged cock, gripping it greedily. “Have you met me?”

Shoppers were soon treated to the sound of Ozzy’s Luciferian howls, the bird’s strangled moans, and Robert’s air raid siren screams.

Robert came out of the dressing room shirtless since they used his blouse to mop up all the jizz, Ozzy came out with his fuchsia lipstick smeared down his chin, and the girl came out walking funny but smiling happily.

Needless to say, Robert and Ozzy are no longer allowed in that shop.

Once out onto the street, Ozzy, despite his drug induced haze, noticed one of the newspapers at the local newspaper stand, stating that Deep Purple was playing in a few days in California. “Oi, Percy, check it out. We should go see Deep Purple in sunny California!”

Robert peered at the story. “Ritchie Blackmore is an asshole,” Robert said. “But they got some new cats playing with them. It could be interesting, I suppose.”

“Let’s head to the pub we’re supposed to meet up with the rest of the gang. I’m hungry. That shag took it out outta me,” Ozzy announced.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading, there will be more coming.
> 
> As usual, kudos, discussion, dirty rock star pics, love, comments, suggestions welcome! 
> 
> It seems the two bands' paths will be converging at the same place! Woo!


End file.
